


Close Up

by ArraFrost



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 18:55:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArraFrost/pseuds/ArraFrost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter has quite an obsession with Deadpool and his dark room full of photographs taken without the knowledge of the masked mercenary is proof of that - except Peter never expected Wade to see that room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close Up

“Fuck, just wait there and try... uh try not to bleed on the rug.” Peter could not believe he just said that but the thought of explaining to Harry why they needed to hire a rug cleaner to remove the blood stains was not his idea of a good evening at home with his roommate.

“Right I'll just suck the blood back into my veins. You haven't been around many knife fights have you kid?” The masked mercenary asked him and Peter could see the smug grin pulling at the fabric.

“Those weren't knives, they were swords. Now stay there. I'll be right back.” Peter brushed off the bad feelings crawling up his spine from leaving the man in his living room alone but he had to get a towel and bandages and disinfectant. His shoulder had a gaping hole in it and Deadpool, as Peter had come to know him as from word of mouth, refused to be taken to a hospital. Peter had refused to leave him alone as requested and persuaded the mercenary to come back to his home.

Although he probably shouldn't have offered to bring a possible felon back to his home, the man wasn't exactly a stranger to Peter. He knew him... sort of... from afar. It was a one-way familiarity type situations. So even though alarm bells were ringing, he felt oddly comfortable leaving the man to his own devices – which was hopefully not stealing anything and keeping pressure on that shoulder with Peter's sweater like he'd been told.

Sacrificing a sweater to a fate of 'bloody rag' was also something Peter had done without thinking. He had been watching the fight from above. This time he could freely admit to it being a coincidence. Having been employed to photograph the unveiling of the new statue in the park dedicated to some new superhero who saved the day yet again – superheroes, they were always doing that and getting all the press coverage. All they had to do was smile for Peter's powerless camera and they were golden, all over the papers.

Despite the fact that Peter was primarily getting paid for his uncanny ability to snap pictures of superheroes in the act and not just on promotional days like today, it didn't mean his pictures weren't completely quality. He took pride in his ability to take a brilliant photo without the help of superpowers, it was his talent and he was a professional – even if he sold the majority of his photos to sleazy tabloids. Which was why Peter was on the roof across the building. He could get quality pictures without being hustled and jostled around by the crowd surrounding the statue.

He had been about to pack up, having gotten a fair amount of photos that he knew his employers would be happy with because most others would be blurry or too close up or limited to only the statue or the crowd whereas Peter had a large variety of all the above. Noise in the alleyway below him had gotten his attention. It was only a six story building and leaning over he saw him. The red and black vigilante that had been showing up more and more on the other side of Peter's camera lens.

Fighting thugs no doubt and it was a rather brutal battle. He barely managed to kill the men, which was something that Peter had noted previously. The man wasn't a hero. Heroes never killed their opponents, not the way Deadpool did. That didn't deter Peter's intrigue with the vigilante, however. Somehow... he was always taking pictures of him. Whenever he saw him on the streets... and quite a few times chasing rumors to get another glimpse of him. Peter took it as luck that Deadpool wasn't exactly subtle about his location, so it was never hard to find him for a quick photo shoot.

He couldn't pinpoint why, but the allure of the man was there and it was heavy. Peter's dark room was proof of that, the sheer amount of pictures of the masked man hanging up in there... close-ups, full body shots, shots of him walking or attacking his opponent. The only thing Peter didn't have was a picture of his face because he was always wearing the full body suit. He had some pictures where his sleeves have gotten cut and Peter took a good time adjusting to how the man's skin looked underneath the costume. He had questioned whether the scarring was extensive and after pictures of exposed skin on both arms, his back, his right leg and now his shoulder... he could come to the solid conclusion that it was.

Seeing one of Deadpool's own swords land in that shoulder was the sight that made Peter put his camera down, grab his things, and bolt to the stairwell, hoping when he got down there Deadpool would still be alive. He was, thankfully and the others weren't. Peter couldn't explain why he was there to the questioning look Deadpool had given him, or the fact that he shrugged off his sweater without thinking and pressed it to the man's open wound. Deadpool had tried to argue and Peter wouldn't take no for an answer. So now there was a bleeding man in his living room and he was praying Harry wasn't going to come home from work early today.

“So, we don't have any antiseptic but I found some Polysporin To Go-” Peter dropped his handful of bandages when he walked into the room to see the red and black costume in the open door frame of his dark room. Where all his pictures of the masked merc were hanging to develop and dry and well be framed on the walls without anyone being the wiser...

“Uh... you know. That's sort of private and if you let the light in it'll ruin my pictures so why don't you-”

“Like taking pictures of me, huh boy?” Deadpool's voice was lower than Peter had ever heard it. The times he overheard him fighting his voice was always light and mocking, on the way back here it was pretty much the same only making jokes at his own expense. Now it was deep, sending chills down Peter's spine and he wasn't sure whether that was good or bad.

“Uh... well...” That was intelligent, beautifully put Peter.

“Who are you working for? Black Box? Black Tom Cassidy? One of the million other people with Black in their name who're out for my ass on a stick? And not in the kinky way either. Least I hope not...” Deadpool turned around, holding a picture of himself with one of his swords in some unnamed thug's chest. “Not too bright bringing me back here to see the home base are you?”

“It's... no... not...” Peter floundered for the right words and a good explanation for why he had a stalker-sized collection of photographs containing the man standing before him but his mouth was on hiatus apparently. His mind not doing so well either.

“Jokes on you! I've already signed a contract with a modeling agency so legally you can't use any of these for their dumb calender. Wade Wilson is out of the market!”

Peter blinked at the man he was suddenly no longer intimidated by.

“Nice shot of my ass.” Wade, as he stated, was now flipping through a pile of his photographs. “Getting a bit of a close-up for that one, huh.”

About to argue his way out of that accusation with a series of incoherent mumbles, Peter's attention was drawn to how casually the man was leaning against the door frame with absolutely no hindrance to his arm as he sorted through the pile.

“Your arm is healed!” Peter exclaimed, taking brisk steps to the man and grabbing his arm without humility to inspect the incredible lack of exposed muscle and bone. The scars on his shoulder were still prominent, but the man had clearly healed himself.

“Oh yeah, told you hospitals were useless. Healing factor. Right as acid rain.”

Peter's eyebrow rose but he didn't linger on the comment any longer than that. “How can you do that and still have-” He cut himself off when he realized his fingertips had been stroking the man's shoulder, feeling the uneven skin beneath it. Averting his eyes, he pulled his hands away and backed up.

“Scars? Part of the deal. Unlimited cosmic healing powers!... scarred and butchered living space.”

“Sorry about that... I shouldn't have pried.”

Deadpool shrugged, seemingly to not care but he was more tense than usual. “So is that shrine dedicated to me in there real or is my pool-o-vision on the fritz again?”

“You're what and a what? No! It's not- not a shrine! I just take pictures, that's all!” The color rising into his cheeks wasn't subtle, Peter could feel the warmth of it, and that wasn't going to help his case.

“You always take a hundred pictures of one dude in a snappy outfit?”

“It's not your outfit- I like...” Peter's mouth had actually run away from his tonight, he seriously needed to buy a leash for it. “I... like taking pictures of you...”

“Who are you?” Wade's voice danced with intrigue and Peter had the distinct feeling that if he could see his eyes under that mask, they would be glittering with mischief because suddenly the room felt a lot smaller than Peter remembered it. And it was a spacious, fancy condo at Harry's request.

“P-Peter Parker... I'm a photograher...”

“Who happens to get off on taking pictures of masked men?” Wade was moving closer, that was a definite thing and clearly Peter's natural reaction was to back up with every advancing step.

“W-what no! I just... I sort of... I-” He hadn't prepared himself for this day. He honestly didn't think this day would ever be a reality. In fact, he had never even thought of this day  _at all_  because how on earth would his imagination invent all of  _this_ and with this kind of reaction?

“You sort of like taking pictures of me?” Wade... yup that was definitely a purring sound in that man's throat as he closed in on him. It seemed that his advancing steps were much wider than Peter's retreating steps because he was enclosing on his personal space rather quickly.

“No... maybe... I don't know I only take pictures from afar I-”  
“Didn't think that you'd have to own up to your feelings?”

The couch hit the back of Peter's knees and he fell into a sitting position, looking up as the man moved into his space, a knee resting on the sofa between Peter's thighs as he leaned in.

“You think these photo sessions are free?” He whispered into Peter's ear that was no doubt as red as his face at the moment.

“W-with that logic... it's usually the subject that pays the photographer...” Peter managed to mutter in a semi-coherent manner and Wade pulled back a bit to get a better look at Peter's face. “If... if you wanted to... uh... use that... analogy...”

“No I think I want to use the analog stick.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, completely baffled by this man's mind and this was coming from someone who had been babbling like an idiot for the past twenty minutes. “The wh-ahhh.”

He hadn't been expecting Wade's hand to firmly and roughly grope his crotch but at least he understood what Wade meant now. No... that wasn't right. The idea of understanding anything the man was saying to him through the inappropriate touching of his junk was a clear statement on Peter's own mental state. This was wrong. This wasn't what he wanted from taking all those photos... was it?

“Come on. You've got a kink, you know it, I know it, they know it. Own up and maybe I'll let you take a picture without the costume.”

Peter swallowed the lump and the moan in his throat at the thought of that.

“Say it.” Wade whispered, his voice all lust against Peter's neck. He wasn't joking. He actually wanted Peter to fess up and admit that he had a thing for taking pictures of Deadpool... and if that wasn't a joke... than that was a blatant promise for a lack of costume.

“I...” Peter breathed out, resisting the urge to lean up into Wade's touch. Did he actually want this? Was his subconscious really that obvious? Wade pressed down with his palm and the moan rolled off Peter's tongue. Apparently yes.

“Fuck... I... yes...”

“So you want a no-spandex photoshoot?” His breath was hot and suggestive, so were his teeth trailing marks down his neck through the fabric of his mask.

“Yes I... yeah....” Peter thrust up into Wade's hand. “Take off your mask.”

“Oh you'd like that wouldn't you stalker boy?” Caressing Peter firmly through his jeans.

“I want you laid out so I can see every inch of you.” Peter gasped, astonished yet impressed with himself.

“Mmm kinky.” Wade pulled away, much to Peter's dismay as his body tried to follow. It was soon remedied by the Deadpool mask being pulled off the merc's head. He wasn't the most attractive person in the world, in fact many people would call him ugly and disgusting. But Peter found him handsome, even with the extensive scars. Could have been the charm and sarcasm, along with that sultry voice, influencing his perception. Or the long term crush that he's apparently had on the masked man, but nothing deterred him from leaning forward and claiming those chapped lips.

It was a kiss that Wade quickly took over, licking his way into Peter's mouth, running his tongue along the roof of his mouth, tasting every inch he could reach and Peter could only moan as he pushed back. His hands were soon grasping at the shoulders of Wade's suit, pulling him closer. Wade's hands had spread the photographer's thighs, pressing his own leg between Peter's and giving him the pressure he craved.

Peter rolled his hips against the mercenary, sucking on the tongue in his mouth and delighting in the deep growl it caused. Wade's hands caressed their way up Peter's body, wrapping around him before he picked him up, turning them around and falling back onto the sofa. Peter straddled him unceremoniously and looked down at the man stretched out beneath him. The smirk present and very suggestive.

“Oh...” Peter grinned, bending over him and making quick work of the suit. Sitting back on Wade's thighs, he admired the man under him. The confidence in his eyes despite the state of his skin... but he could contemplate Wade's ability to overcome his flaws later. Right now he wanted to become more acquainted with them.

“It'll go faster if you remove some clothes too. Preferably all of them but if you got some silk panties on underneath to go with your photography kink...”

Peter's eyebrow rose, he was already getting accustomed to these comments and he was rather enjoying them. “You talk a lot.”

Wade shrugged. “Merc with a mouth. That's what they call me, that's what they get.”

“Well, you going to have to try not talking or you'll ruin the shot.” Peter adjusted himself, leaning over Wade to reach over the arm of the couch.

“What?” Wade furrowed his eyebrows, catching Peter's eye as he shifted back into place, only this time with his camera in hand.

“I told you I wanted you laid out for everything to see. And you said naked photoshoot so...” Peter sat back on the other arm of the couch, it wasn't every day he got to indulge in something he'd been subconsciously craving for months, so it wasn't as though he'd pass up a willing opportunity.

“Tricky bugger but if you get off on it, go ahead. Get enough to wank off to later.” Wade laid back, arms stretched out above his head as he got comfortable. Exceedingly confident with himself, as proven by how he opened his legs wide for Peter, and it was something about him he was already enjoying far too much.

“No.” Peter grinned, taking a good shot that framed his upper body and grinning lewdly over the camera. “That's how you're going to pay for these pictures.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://arrafrost.tumblr.com/)


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